Death Note: Like Minds
by Coffee-Fae
Summary: A new Kira is murdering those with physical or mental imperfections and kidnapping the mentally or physically gifted. L finds a new ally in Yousha Sorano, a young psychologist with a heart condition, but will they catch this new Kira in time? LxOC
1. Chapter 1: Yousha Sorano

**Death Note: Like Minds**

Chapter 1: Meet Yousha Sorano

"Ryuga! I need to talk to you _right now_!" Light Yagami shouting (nearly screaming) across the courtyard of To-Oh University with such urgency that L (called Ryuga Heideki on campus) was forced to stop in his tracks on his way to class.

L turned his dark-ringed eyes to his friend, who was tearing across the courtyard toward him, waving a newspaper and wearing a most horrified expression. "What's wrong, Light-kun?" he asked politely and calmly with a hint of curiosity.

"Look at this headline on the front page!" Light demanded, shoving the newspaper in L's face.

"Kira returns!" the headline proclaimed. The column read, "Kira's attention turns to those with mental or physical handicaps. Many have already mysteriously died of heart attacks. The recent disappearances of the intellectually and physically gifted have also been attributed to Kira."

"Ryuga," Light began seriously, "if this Kira is after the intellectually gifted, you and I could be in danger. We have to stop him before he finds us."

"Correct," L agreed, taking the newspaper from Light with a pincer grasp, "We can't let him escape to continue this killing spree. Let's go to headquarters after our classes."

"I have an hour before my next class," Light whispered so they would not be overheard by the dangerous serial murderer mentioned in the paper, "I'll call everyone."

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

Matsuda, Mr. Yagami, and his son, Light, and L approached the entrance to headquarters shielded from the torrential rain by umbrellas. The skies over Japan have been overcast all day, so a thunderstorm was to be expected. The cheerful yellow butterfly sticky-note on the glass outer door, however, was much unexpected. "'The rain was ruining my make-up, so I let myself in,'" Matsuda read the note aloud and added, "The only signature is an illustration of a winged heart."

"Misa," Light said in an exasperated sigh, "She must be back from filming that movie in the United States."

"No," L corrected him, "that's not Misa-san's handwriting, and I'd expect a punk Hello Kitty note from her sooner than a cheerful yellow butterfly. Matsuda-san, Yagami-san, Light-kun, we must be prepared for anything."

Mr. Yagami and Matsuda drew their pistols. Since they had been reinstated into the police force, they felt safer relying on their training as they cautiously entered the building, fearing an encounter with Kira's latest incarnation. They let their weapons lead the way toward the center common room. As they rounded the corner where the monitors and computer equipment were, they found a plain-looking young lady in her early twenties wearing glasses in front of her chocolate brown eyes and ear buds in her ears under her black hair, which was tied into a tight bun. She wore a red v-neck t-shirt and jeans on her five-foot-four-inch, one-hundred-and-twenty-pound frame, and a pure white round cultured pearl was suspended in a silver wire cage by a silver chain around her neck. A manga in one hand, she lazily lounged in L's usual seat with her feet resting on the desk next to one of the keyboards. A mug with the initial "L" in old English lettering printed on it delivered coffee to this mysterious young lady's lips from her other hand.

"WHO ARE YOU!" Mr. Yagami demanded, pointing his pistol in her direction, "HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE! START TALKING!" But for another full minute, she was completely oblivious to his presence.

When she finally sensed that she was no longer alone, she looked up at Mr. Yagami and, removing one ear bud, asked innocently, "Did you say something?" However, she didn't bother listening to his reply. Instead she turned her bespectacled gaze to L and smile pleasantly. "You must be L, the famous reclusive detective!" she said in a musical voice and raised the coffee mug to him, "Great coffee, but since I couldn't find any mugs with _my_ initial on them, I just used one of yours. You also have an impressive manga collection in your room, so I borrowed one."

"Watari," L whined nervously, "she's been in my room."

"Answer us!" Light ordered her bravely, "Who are you?"

"No need to yell," she answered, "The name's Dr. Yousha Sorano. I'm a psychologist."

"How'd you get by the security system?" Matsuda asked, impressed that one so young already held a doctoral degree.

"Your security system is no match for a little creativity and a silver gum wrapper!" Dr. Sorano cheered with a wide smile.

"What about the guards?" Mr. Yagami pointed out, noticing that the guards seemed unharmed when they first entered.

"Well, people are surprisingly cooperative," she purred with a seductive smile and conspiratory wink, playing provocatively with the caged pearl around her neck, "when asked the right way."

L tilted his head and stared blankly at Dr. Sorano for a half a moment before, in what he thought was an act of bravery, considering this woman could be the new Kira, snatched the coffee from her hand and coiled himself up in the chair beside her. Staring blankly at the monitors, L sipped the coffee and muttered, "Not enough sugar."

'I heard you were weird,' Dr. Sorano thought. She snickered, "This is going to be so much fun!"

"What's your purpose here, Dr. Sorano?" Light questioned her.

"Please, call me 'Yousha.' Dr. Sorano is my _mom's_ name," she cringed, "And I'm here for _one_—no, two—no, just one—no, it's two—yeah, two—_two_ reasons. One, this new Kira, with whom I am in no way associated, murders the physically or mentally disabled, and since I was born with a severe heart condition, it's in my best interest that this killer be caught. Also this Kira kidnaps the physically or mentally gifted, and since you, L, and I are extraordinarily brilliant, I thought you could use my help and protection. I have an IQ in the 170s."

'Almost as high as mine,' L thought, 'Interesting.'

"And B," Yousha continued, Mr. Yagami smiling at the incongruence, "I've been reading up on L's work, and I thought he'd make a most fascinating case study!"

L coughed, nearly choking on the coffee. He'd never really thought of himself as a fascinating psychological case study subject, and he wasn't sure he liked the idea. He snapped his head around and glared at Yousha.

"I smell a Pulitzer!" she giggled, "I've never heard of anyone this paranoid and neurotic!"

'Why not check the mirror?' Light thought, 'This one is _stark raving mad!_'

'If she's Kira,' Mr. Yagami thought, 'she already knows all our faces. Does she also need our names?'

"How can I be sure you're not Kira trying to learn my name to kill me?" L asked, still glaring at her.

"If I _kill_ you, I can't _study_ you!" Yousha laughed, "And what would be the use in getting your name if I don't even plan to use such identifying information in my study? So if I _am_ Kira (but I'm not) you're safe, at least until this study is published. Besides, I'm an admirer of yours, L. You're intelligence and reasoning abilities are a great asset to this world, so if I were Kira, you'd be kidnapped, not killed. If I'm _not_ Kira (and I'm not) you're even safer than you were before because I'd have to protect my study subject with my life."

L stopped glaring at Yousha, but he dared not look away. In his mind there was at least a seventy percent chance that Yousha Sorano might be Kira. "Watari," L addressed an unassuming old man who had been standing inconspicuously in the corner, "please prepare Yousha-san a room." 'If she's Kira, at least I'll be able to watch her closely,' he reasoned with himself.

"Does that mean you'll let me study you?" Yousha asked excitedly as Watari left to prepare the room.

L sipped on the coffee again. "I suppose so," he murmured.

"YAAAAAAYYYY!" Yousha squealed, hopping up and down and spinning 'round and 'round. 'Perfect,' she congratulated herself in her mind, 'What an opportunilty this is to advance my career as a psychologist _and_ help catch a dangerous killer! Being such a brilliant detective, L will probably soon figure out that my antic disposition is an act. (He's also much cuter than I thought he'd be just judging from my research.) ANYWAY! Anyway, I hope my stay here won't prove fruitless. But since I pulled that little breaking and entering stunt, I know he'll be very suspicious of me. I'll have a difficult time getting him to trust me _now_, but for the safety of millions of people (as well as my own) I have to make sure L stays safe. He's the only one who could catch Kira.'

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

"Icarus," whined a deep female voice from behind the left shoulder of Dr. Icarus Ijimeru. "Icarus Ijimeru," she whined again. Her voice sounded as if she called out from a very dark place, an abyss from which nothing but death comes. "Icarus," she somehow cried and sang at the same time, "How many names have you written today in the Death Note I gave to you?"

"Today is Friday the twenty-seventh, Shinigami Gryfe," Icarus replied, "So I wrote eighteen names of people with genetic disease. They were in so much pain. They should never bring a child into this world and put that child through such suffering." Icarus's black eyes peered out from under his dark, curly hair as his muscular arm guided his left hand to the right side of his desk, where the file drawer was. "I had to be sure those inferior traits could no longer pollute the gene pool," Dr. Ijimeru, a veterinarian and greyhound breeder, added in his unsettlingly soothing voice, speaking to Gryfe, a god of death. Gryfe liked the way Icarus spoke because he spoke with a Greek accent. His mother was Greek, but Icarus's father was Japanese. "I'm trying to use the Death Note to rid the world of disease and pain, as the first Kira tried to rid the world of evil," he explained, "And while the rest of the world is cleansed, here I will create a utopia, where culture is continuously enriched, science is ever advancing, and none are ever suffering due to the mistakes of nature." Icarus rose from his desk and parted the black-out curtains over the window.

The day was bright and beautiful now. The light of the sun flooded the room, revealing it to be some sort of library, and the shelves were lined with works by renowned scientists, philosophers, physicians, and psychologists from across time and around the world. Strangely, though, the books had all been re-covered so that they were all the same height on the shelf, exactly one-point-five decimeters, by Icarus's measure. The owner of these volumes was well-educated and well-read. All of his 81.65 kilograms on a 16 decimeter body was pure muscle. Since he lived in Japan, where most of the people were small in stature, Icarus felt like a mighty giant among mortal men, and now that he possessed the Death Note of Shinigami Gryfe, Dr. Ijimeru thought himself close to becoming a deity.

Gryfe, the Shinigami who gave Icarus her Death Note, had her own motives for her actions. Unlike the rest of the bored death gods, Gryfe found for herself a hobby. She enjoyed observing how different humans respond to tragedy, becoming somewhat of an amateur psychologist. The very human process of mourning death intrigued Gryfe, as no two humans grieved the same way.

One specific human, Icarus, who now stood before her staring out the window, piqued Gryfe's interest when he was a child. In an experiment, Gryfe wrote the names of Icarus's parents into her notebook. 'How would this child react to witnessing his parents' murder and the murderer committing suicide?' she had wondered, 'The unpredictable behavior of that schizophrenic with a club foot should make the results of this test very interesting indeed.'

After watching Icarus for some years following the gruesome murder/suicide, Gryfe found his behavior fascinating. 'I'd like to see what he does when _he_ has control over life and death,' she pondered. She gave Icarus her notebook for nothing more than curiosity's sake.

They stared together out through the library window at the bright and glorious day shining on the wildflowers in a field surrounding a curious collection of tiny houses. Inside each house, a man and a woman stared desperately back, mouthing something like, "Let us out! Let us go!" These were Kira's kidnapping victims.

"These mating pairs will produce healthy and intelligent offspring," Icarus mused, "if they don't want to be killed by Kira. And those offspring will populate my utopia, where pain and disease will be completely unknown, and none will suffer the same type of loss as I have."


	2. Chapter 2: Kiras New Target

Chapter 2: Kira's New Target

After only _one precious hour_ of sleep, L, having dozed off briefly in the common room of headquarters, was awakened by the smell of crepes and eggy-in-a-basket and the sound of purely angelic singing. He glanced at the clock as the mezzo-soprano sang "The Last Rose of Summer" sweetly. The time was eight in the morning. HE uncurled himself from his chair in front of the computers and shuffled, hunched over in his usual way, toward the kitchen, drawn by the smell of breakfast and the siren's song. He quietly pushed open the kitchen door. Entranced by the singing, L found no music players of any kind. He only saw his newest guest in a tie-died v-neck t-shirt and jeans with her black hair held away from her face by a matching bandana. Yousha's voice soared and fell so melodiously that L could not stop listening until the last note died into the stillness of the indoor morning air. Still breathless, L watched Yousha stack a breakfast tray.

"BREAKFAST!" Yousha suddenly squawked and spun around with the tray, colliding with L in mid-turn.

Startled L was unsure how to react for half a second as the dishes on the tray rattled, threatening to topple over but then settling back into their places.

"Whew!" Yousha sighed loudly, "That coffee's hot. Glad it didn't spill 'cause you wouldn't have such a good morning if you'd been burned. Here, this is for you." She handed L the tray and skipped toward the breakfast table where Light, Mr. Yagami, and Matsuda were already seated.

"Hey, Ryuzaki, good morning," Mr. Yagami greeted L. (He had already told Yousha what name by which to call L within the walls of headquarters.) "Did you know Yousha sings whenever she cooks?"

"But I don't cook whenever I sing," Yousha chirped joyfully, "More coffee anyone?"

L curled into his seat after carefully placing the tray on the table in front of him. He stared at Yousha as she rolled fruit filling into the crepes. "How did you recognize me so easily last evening?" L quizzed, "You instantly knew me as L."

"Well just _look_ at you!" Yousha began, "You _look_ just like what I thought you would from my initial psychological profile of you. Your paranoia drives your chronic insomnia, so then you eat sweets and dose yourself with caffeine to stay awake and alert. Your excellent reasoning and logic skills make you a brilliant detective, but those same skills tend to hamstring relationships because to you, everything has to make sense, has to have a reason. Sometimes relationships (especially romantic ones) just don't make any logical sense. You seem to _want_ friends, but your paranoia and tendency to live in your own thoughts usually drive others away. I figured your diet and lack of sleep would cause dark circles around your eyes and that your extreme introversion would result in your neglecting your appearance. The paranoia would make you take on a defensive posture, which is why you're always hunched over like that when you walk. That protects your face, but one day it'll ruin your back. The loneliness you must feel every day is probably the reason you almost never smile, which is quite a pity because I bet you'd have a great smile. Try the crepes! They're my grandma's secret recipe."

'She could deduce all that from second-hand reports of my behavior on previous cases?' L mused, impressed, 'If Yousha-san is Kira, she would be very dangerous, and that likelihood is right now plus or minus sixty percent.'

"We'd better be careful around this one, boys!" Mr. Yagami laughed.

"Have you profiled _me_ yet, Yousha?" Matsuda asked hopefully, smiling at her.

"Is there a reason I should?" Yousha arched one eyebrow at him as she poured L another coffee. Matsuda responded with only a sad sigh and a frown while Light laughed at him.

With one hand L stirred about eight _more_ sugar cubes into his coffee, and with his index finger and thumb he plucked one end of his blackberry-filled crepe from the plate. As Light and Yousha talked over the latest discoveries in psychological research, the crepe's filling oozed out of its shell and plopped unceremoniously onto L's white t-shirt. L sighed and thought, 'Story. Of. My. Life.'

"Oh crepe!" Yousha punned, receiving an eye-roll from L in reply as he shuffled out of the kitchen and slinked up the stairs to his room to change.

'Yousha Sorano,' L pondered, 'I honestly hope you're not Kira.' He reached for the doorknob and turned it, and the door clicked open.

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

Crunching loudly on apple wedges dipped in orange sherbet, Gryfe watched Icarus work at his computer and write names into the Death Note. "Talk to me, Icarus," she whined through a mouthful of her snack. If there was one thing in the human world no Shinigami could resist, it'd be apples, and Gryfe loved sherbet almost as much as she loved apples.

"I'm only writing the names of some of the pet owners who bring their animals into my office," Icarus answered, "and I've hacked into the records in several major hospital networks around the world."

"You're a hacker?" Gryfe asked curiously.

Icarus shrugged. "I taught myself to hack computers in college," he answered, "I thought that skill would impress girls. Now that same skill is helping me eliminate the weak-minded and feeble-bodied."

"But how does a veterinarian/greyhound breeder find new specimens for his _other_ project?" Gryfe asked, nodding toward the window of the darkened library. The curtains were closed, but if they had been opened, the tiny houses would be what Gryfe was nodding toward.

"I've been hacking into academic records and physical fitness test scores also," the new Kira replied, "but in order to ensure viability, I'm limiting my search to only ten years in the past and no earlier. The specimens aren't useful if they can't reproduce."

"Right now you seem to be looking for someone specific," Gryfe observed.

Icarus nodded. "Light Yagami, the best and brightest," he told Gryfe, "He's a gifted student and a strong athlete, which would make him an ideal addition to the population's gene pool." He clicked the mouse a few more times. "Found him," Icarus declared with triumph, "Today nineteen names were written, one physically fit woman was captured, and now we're going to capture her mate."

Icarus seized a backpack from a chair next to him and unzipped it, and a white full face mask emerged in his hand.

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

The clothes were hanging nicely in the closet or folded neatly in a drawer. The bed was made with lovely hospital corners, and the carpet had not just been vacuumed, but also shampooed. The computer was placed on a desk, which was organized and arranged meticulously, and an executive's chair in front of the computer desk invited any who saw it to sit down. L could not believe this was his room. "Watari," he called, "have you been in my room lately?"

"No sir," Watari called back from downstairs, "but the video surveillance should show you who has."

L scrambled to his computer. He'd forgotten all about the blackberry filling staining his shirt. The camera pointed at his bedroom door revealed Yousha Sorano entering the room at about eleven p.m. the previous night. He furiously dashed down the stairs where he found Yousha innocently kicking a hacky sack in the common room. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM!" L demanded.

"Um," Yousha wondered for a second how to respond, "the same thing I did to everyone's room."

"How did you even get in?" L interrogated her.

"With three of the most useful things in the world," Yousha replied with a mischievous smile, "rubber bands, duct tape, and paper clips. Oh, by the way, lunch is in the slow cooker, and I'll be baking cookies later."

"I'M BAAAAAAAACK!" a short, blond girl squealed shrilly as she entered the common area with shopping bags in her hands before L had time to yell at Yousha again.

"Oh, Misa-Misa!" Matsuda greeted the blond as he entered the room, "Welcome back to Japan! How'd the filming in the United States go?"

"Very well, thanks!" she answered, "And I got souvenirs for everybody!"

"What's a 'Misa?'" Yousha wondered. She never kept up with celebrities.

"_I'm_ Misa!" the little blond smiled at first but then frowned disapprovingly at Yousha. "Misa Amane, actress and model _and Light Yagami's girlfriend_," Misa introduced herself, "and who are you?"

"Yousha Sorano, psychologist," Yousha replied, "I'm helping with the latest Kira case while also conducting an individual case study on—"

"LIGHT!" Misa screeched, "How _could _you!"

"How could I what?" Light asked as he entered from his room to see what all the screeching was.

"You're cheating on Misa!" Misa accused, "And she's not even as pretty as Misa!"

"HEY!" Yousha took offense, "Well, ok, you got a point there."

"I'm not cheating on you, Misa," Light said in an exasperated sigh.

"Then why is there another girl in headquarters!"

"She's a psychologist doing a one-on-one case study on—"

"On what? No, Misa doesn't even want to hear it!" Misa sobbed and stomped out the door, the clacking of her stiletto heels echoing throughout the building.

"Go get her, Light-kun," L sighed, "She's still a suspect."

"Fine," L said in another exasperated sigh and followed Misa's path, taking his phone out of his pocket to text her as he walked. He was in no hurry to find her.

"Misa-Misa jumps to conclusions sometimes," Matsuda explained, "but once Light tells her everything, she'll forgive him."

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

"It's green," L observed, poking suspiciously at his lunch with a fork.

"Yeah, broccoli usually is," Yousha laughed. She had prepared her mother's recipe for beef vegetable stew, which was thick enough to eat with a fork. "Just taste it, Ryuzaki," she urged L.

"Where's Light?" Mr. Yagami wondered, "It's not like him to miss lunch."

"Maybe he's out with Misa-Misa," Matsuda suggested through a mouthful of Yousha's stew as L continued to poke at the broccoli, as if he expected it to move.

L jabbed the vegetable with his fork and raised it to his lips, but he quickly put the green thing down again and cut it in half. He attempted to taste the green thing again, and this time the broccoli reached his mouth. He chewed it slowly, trying to decide whether or not he liked it.

"Light seems to be the kind who'd call if he knew he'd be out later than he thought," Yousha observed, "And there were nineteen Kira killings today and at least one kidnapping. Light's one of the sharpest tools in the shed, and he's a suspect himself. He'd know a disappearing act would make him look suspicious." A loud DING caught Yousha's ear. "YAY!" she cheered, "The cookies are done!"

"Cookies?" L repeated hopefully with the broccoli bit still in his mouth.

"Not until you eat your veggies," Yousha playfully ordered.

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

"I'm sorry Misa" Light texted Misa Amane as he walked toward her apartment, "Just come back to HQ and I'll tell Yousha it's over, ok?" The street wasn't well lit on the route Light Yagami took. He'd been out for hours texting Misa, and now the hour was very late. Light skipped lunch, though now the sun died away and stars seized the night. Light thought, 'Typical Misa, always around _except_ when we want her.' So focused was he that he barely noticed the winter chill, much less the shadowy figure in a white full face mask just in front of him behind a corner.

As Light passed by, the figure roughly pulled a rope, catching Light's foot and causing him to trip. Light's phone was thrown from his hand, and it clattered to the ground as the masked figure hog-tied, gagged, and blindfolded his victim. The last clear memory Light had before blacking out was a damp rag over his nose and the smell of what he guessed was chloroform.


	3. Chapter 2: Think Like Kira

Chapter 3: Think Like Kira

Light awoke nauseous and dizzy and weak. Warm morning sunlight came at a slant though the window and alighted gently on his face. He was in something like a storage building that had been remodeled into a very small, yet cozy and livable house. Light lay on a queen-sized mattress in a loft which overlooked a kitchenette and a tiny great room where on a cream-colored love suede love seat sat a tall brunette reading _The Phantom of the Opera_ in the original French. The young lady was probably in her early twenties and obviously not Japanese. Light guessed she was European, but he felt too sick to say anything to her. The foreigner's bright hazel eyes scanned the pages of the novel line by line until she gracefully untied a red ribbon from her hair and used it to mark the page before closing the book. She began climbing the ladder to the loft at the same time Light decided to try sitting up.

"Who are you?" Light asked weakly in Japanese. He hadn't quite recovered from Kira's attack on him.

The young brunette looked confused and asked, "_Parle vou France_?"

"I don't speak French," Light said in English, "Please tell me you speak English."

"Oh, yes, English," the woman replied also in English, "My name is Francesca. I came to Japan from France to film my latest music video, and yesterday afternoon some psycho in a white mask chloroformed me! He tossed you in here last night and locked us both in. I didn't know what else to do, so I brought you up here so you could rest."

"Thank you for that, Francesca," Light answered, "I'm Light Yagami, and I think the man in the white mask you saw is probably a dangerous serial killer known as Kira. He's been murdering people with physical or mental disabilities and kidnapping those with physical or mental talents. I was helping with the investigation when I was attacked."

"Well, we're not dead," observed Francesca as she sat on the edge of the mattress next to Light's knees, "so what do you think he wants with us?"

Accompanied by a background of white noise, an intercom clicked on just before Light could answer Francesca's question. A voice disguised by a voice changer announced in English, "Greetings, specimens, and congratulations!"

"'Specimens?'" Light repeated under his breath.

"You have been chosen for a most ambitious project with the goal of eliminating genetic disease, a project for the betterment of the human race," the disguised voice continued, "I am your breeder, Dr. Ijimeru, but you might know me better as the notorious Kira. You have each been paired with a mate with whom you are genetically compatible. Your task is to produce with your mate disease-free offspring. On your kitchenette counter is a red spiral notebook and a pen. In this notebook, you are to keep a journal of your mating habits as well as lists of anything you might need or want concerning your survival, hobbies, day-to-day lives, and/or the project. If you choose not to cooperate, you will be promptly terminated. If you try to escape, the alarms on the windows and doors will alert the dogs, and you will be promptly terminated. If you have any questions, write them into your notebooks and place the notebook through the mail slot on the front door of your habitat."

"_Mon Deiu_!" Francesca shrieked, "He's insane!"

"We've got to get out of here," Light agreed.

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

Yousha dared not breathe until the last pawn was in its place on the chess board. The whole team had been investigating most of the night and slept through breakfast. L made the mistake of dozing off on the couch in the common area, and Yousha's mischievous nature compelled her to play some prank on him. "Hey," she had whispered, "is Ryuzaki sleeping?" He'd only been asleep a few minutes before Yousha set a chessboard on his back as he lay in his peculiar way on the couch.

"Matsuda!" Yousha called in a stage whisper as Matsuda crossed toward the kitchen, "Come play chess with me before he wakes up!"

How could Matsuda resist? An evil grin crept across his face, and he quietly pulled a chair over. "Best two of three," Matsuda whispered.

"Loser has to kiss Light Yagami right on the lips," Yousha suggested.

Matsuda thought about that for a moment. How good could Yousha possibly be at this game? "You're on!" he agreed.

The first game ended with Yousha checkmating Matsuda, but Matsuda was sure Yousha _let_ him win the second game. "Ah, man," Matsuda whispered dismally as Yousha moved her king's bishop.

Yousha giggled quietly, "Check—"

"KYAAAAAA! LIGHT IS MISSING!" a shrill screech interrupted Yousha's declaration of checkmate and startled L awake, causing the board and chess pieces to leap into the air and scatter all over the floor.

"What happened!" L demanded.

"It's back," Yousha fumed, "the Misa."

L looked around at the chess pieces strewn all over the couch and the floor. "What's all this?" he wondered, but the only answer he received was a suspicious smile.

The clacking of Misa Amane's heels called the trio's attention. "Didn't you three _hear_ me!" she screeched, "My Light is MISSING!"

"Hooray!" Matsuda cheered, realizing that meant his bet with Yousha was off, but then realizing the context, he corrected himself, "I mean, that's awful!"

The group ignored Matsuda as Misa explained, "He stopped texting me at about ten last night, and I haven't heard from him since!"

"Kira," L didn't hesitate to accuse.

"NOOOOOO!" Misa squawked, but Yousha wasn't listening.

'Kira got Light, kidnapped him,' Yousha thought, 'He's so close to the team, to me, _to L_! My profile of this Kira isn't complete enough to be useful, but I'm running out of time here.' She could feel her already weak heart throbbing. She heard her own pulse in her ears, felt it in her throat. 'Is this Kira or my heart condition?' she questioned her own mind. Her eyes suddenly clouded over, and Yousha Sorano collapsed, the caged pearl which hung from her neck rolling to the left side of her chest.

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

"How do we get out of here, Light?" Francesca fretted, about to panic. Light felt too dizzy to respond. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the previous day.

"I don't know," Light answered, "I'm feeling really light-headed."

Kind-hearted Francesca immediately climbed down the loft's ladder and made Light a sandwich. As he finished it, she sat by his knees. He thanked her and promised he'd figure out how to escape Dr. Ijimeru's "project."

"D'Marques and Yagami," the voice on the intercom spoke, but this time with less white noise. Light guessed that meant this was to be a private conversation. "What do you know of L?" Dr. Ijimeru asked in a sinister, yet strangely soothing tone, "I know you've met him. You're helping with the investigation into the Kira case. There's no point denying those facts."

"I don't know his real name either, if that's what you want," Light hissed.

"Any information would do," Dr. Ijimeru's still disguised voice told him.

"I barely know anything at all," Light answered, "He's very secretive."

"I know your face and your name, Light Yagami," Dr. Ijimeru reminded him, "I'd cooperate if I were you."

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

Watari had scooped Yousha up from the cold floor and laid her gently on the couch in the common room. The young psychologist was still unconscious, but she had a pulse. She was breathing.

'She's been out for half an hour,' L remembered as he stood over her, staring at Yousha with an expression of both curiosity and concern. He shuffled over to the closet and produced from it a small clean warm yellow blanket. He shuffled back to Yousha and draped the blanket over her so that it barely covered her shoulders. Curling himself into a seat on the couch next to Yousha's head, being careful not to sit on her raven black hair, L felt compelled to keep watching her.

'In the three days since we met, you haven't acted like any Kira suspect I've ever encountered,' L thought about Yousha, 'If you're Kira, and you only need a face to kill, why have you left me alive? And unless you have a partner, you couldn't be responsible for Light-kun's disappearance. You haven't left headquarters since you arrived (broke in, rather). The probability that you, Yousha-san, are Kira is decreasing every day. I like that.' L ever so gently tucked a lock of Yousha's silky hair behind her ear. 'You do many annoying things, Yousha-san,' he thought, 'but you have thus far never been unkind to me.'

Yousha opened her chocolate, bespectacled eyes with a groan. Lifting her head just to look into L's face was a challenge, as was rolling onto her side. "Not Kira," Yousha whispered weakly to L, "You're safe." She laid her head back down onto a couch pillow and nuzzled against L's hip as he sat beside her in his unusual way. In her weak fist, Yousha gathered some of the fabric of L's pant-leg. "You're safe," she whispered again as she fell asleep with the precious folds of L's pant leg in her grasp.

L smiled for the first time in a long while. He was pleased that Yousha was concerned about his safety, though he wasn't sure why that would please him. L very carefully freed his pant-leg from Yousha's hand and shuffled toward the kitchen where Mr. Yagami, Matsuda, and Misa waited.

"How's Yousha?" Matsuda asked worriedly.

"She'll be fine," L replied, "Her heart condition must have acted up."

"Any news about Light?" Mr. Yagami and Misa asked in near unison.

"No," L answered sadly, "but here's what we know so far. This Kira has access to the medical records of hundreds of thousands of people. He never kills very many at a time, and each of his victims die about two hours and two minutes apart. He only kills people with physical or mental defects, only kidnaps people with physical or mental talents, and on every third Wednesday (which would be today) kills three by murder/suicide, the murderer killing a married couple with a young child before killing himself, always leaving the child alive. Other than an unusually high body count on Wednesdays, the murders appear random. (Either they are random or I just haven't noticed the pattern.)

"Kira probably also has access to hundreds of thousands of academic records and physical fitness test scores, which is how he's finding kidnapping victims. Light is Japan's most brilliant student and an athlete, which made him an irresistible target for Kira. I'm not sure what Kira could be planning for those he kidnaps, but I don't think he plans to kill them, at least not yet."

"Something happened on the third Wednesday that stressed Kira to the point of breaking," a faint voice added from the kitchen doorway.

"YOUSHA!" the group shouted when they noticed Yousha Sorano leaning on the doorframe.

"YOUSHA!" screeched Misa, "Misa is SO SORRY! Misa was angry because Misa thought you stole Light from Misa, so Misa wished at 11:11 that you would die, but Misa didn't think anything like _this_ would happen!"

"I forgive you, Misa," Yousha laughed weakly, finding a seat among the group, "but we have to worry about Kira right now." L stared suspiciously at Misa as Yousha continued, "My profile isn't very complete, but we don't have time for me to sit around. A major stressor happened in Kira's life on a Wednesday, and his compulsion to kill more on Wednesdays is his mind's attempt to cope with this major event. The unusual circumstances surrounding the repetitive Kira murders on every third Wednesday tell us that Kira is, in a way, reliving his stressor. Perhaps three weeks after some milestone in life, such as a birthday, Kira's own parents were the victims in a similar murder/suicide."

"The married couples Kira murders are his only physically and mentally normal victims," added L.

"And usually," Mr. Yagami offered, "they are interracial couples."

"Kira's parents might've been an interracial couple also," suggested Yousha, "And his victimology suggests Kira is also a perfectionist. He's killing even those with slight birth defects. Kira might also have obsessive compulsive disorder."

"OCD?" Mr. Yagami asked, "What makes you suspect that, Yousha?"

"Ryuzaki hasn't seen it, but I saw a definite pattern. On days with even numbered dates, Kira kills an odd number equal to eleven plus the last digit occurring in the date. On days with odd numbered dates, the body count is equal to an even number equal to eleven plus the last digit in the date. Every Wednesday, the pattern changes to twenty-one plus the last digit, except on every third Wednesday, when the pattern is as Ryuzaki noted," Yousha replied with a weak sigh, "Misa, could you get me an aspirin, please?" Misa leaped from the table. Helping Yousha was the same as helping Light right now. "I can't guess at his profession, but I'm certain his job would have something to do with genetics, possibly an animal breeder of some kind," Yousha told them as Misa returned with aspirin and a glass of water, "I'm sorry I didn't have time to complete the profile, but with Light captured, I felt our time was limited."

"So we're looking for an obsessive compulsive perfectionist with a career having to do with predicting the outcomes of certain combinations of genes?" L summarized.

"He might also have delusions of grandeur," Yousha added, "probably due to the god-like power Kira has over death."

"Sounds like we might have another Hitler on our hands," L said grimly, "Thank you, Yousha-san. Your profile will be very helpful, however incomplete you think it to be. Please, go rest and recover, Yousha-san." (Yousha heard the note of worry in L's voice when he asked her to go and rest.)

'There's only one person I know who might fit this profile,' Yousha thought as she climbed the stairs, assisted by faithful Watari, 'He's a veterinarian who breeds grey hounds, and many of Kira's latest victims have been pet owners. What happened to you, Icarus?'


	4. Chapter 4:So Much Closer

Chapter 4: So Much Closer

Per Watari's recommendation, Yousha took the next few weeks slowly and easily. Three weeks passed since Light was kidnapped, and thanks to Yousha's psychological profile, the sea of Kira suspects was shrinking into a puddle. Because they were so close, L didn't see the harm in entertaining Yousha's questions and helping her with the case study.

Yousha lay stretched across the couch in the common room, her necklace resting above the neckline of her sunny yellow v-neck t-shirt. A yellow spiral notebook leaned against her thighs as Yousha bent her jean-clad legs into an a-frame so that she could jot notes on the pages. L sat curled at Yousha's feet, watching her write with curiosity.

"What're you writing, Yousha-san?" L finally asked.

"Notes," she answered simply.

"For your case study of me?"

"Yup."

"May I please read them?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"You might change your behavior, and then I'd have invalid observations," Yousha argued, "Hey, _I'm_ the one supposed to ask questions! Tell me how your childhood messed you up."

L stared blankly at her. "Classified," he snapped.

"Come on," Yousha whined, "tell me." She stretched her legs and propped her feet on L's shoulder. "You know, you make an excellent foot stool," she laughed.

"So is that all I am now?" L questioned, "A foot stool?"

"Of course not!" Yousha corrected him, "You also make a superb game table."

L shrugged Yousha's feet off his shoulder and wondered how much he could tell her without risking his life, since there was still a 40.573% chance she could be Kira. "My parents died in a fire when I was young," he murmured, keeping his voice low for fear there might be listening devices in the room, "Watari has been like a father to me."

"The Alfred to your Batman," Yousha decided.

"The what?" L asked, confused.

"Never mind, go on," Yousha giggled.

"I don't remember much about my parents," L continued, watching Yousha write and deciding that telling her about his parents was fairly low-risk, "but I remember that the only thing they loved more than me was each other."

"Must've been a nice and stable household," Yousha commented with a warm smile, "You must've felt very safe."

L nodded. "We had a pet chinchilla my father named 'Sophocles' after the ancient Greek playwright," he told her, "But we discovered I was allergic to chinchilla fur after I broke out in hives and my throat swelled when I held Sophocles."

"AW SAD!" Yousha whined, "Chinchillas are SO CUTE!"

"What happened to being objective?" L pointed out.

"I'm allowed to have opinions," Yousha muttered, but L ignored her.

"After the doctor diagnosed my allergy," L murmured, "my mother said to my father, 'We'll have to find Sophocles a new home, Lawliet.'" L's eyes suddenly widened in terror after letting slip his father's name. A shudder shot down his spine, making him noticeably twitch. He hoped with every fiber in his being that she hadn't heard that name.

"Lawliet?" Yousha repeated, making L's fear a reality, "That's an interesting name. Sounds French, or maybe it's British. From the way you talk about your parents, I bet your mom really loved your dad. She probably named you after him."

'SHE KNOWS!' L's inner voice screamed, 'I've been so cautious for _years_! How could I slip like this! If she's Kira, I am DEAD! DOOMED! FINISHED!' L's mind was racing. He was certain he had now arrived at death's door and was leaning over the pit of destruction.

"Lawliet," Yousha thought aloud as L quietly and mechanically uncurled himself from the couch and, shaking, slowly shuffled up the stairs. Yousha could see that he was clearly upset. "Are you ok, Lawliet?" she asked innocently, watching him go, "What'd I do?" She was answered only by L's bedroom door slamming.

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

Curled on his bed, L was experiencing real panic. He couldn't think straight. The thought that these were his last seconds, his last few heartbeats, his last few breaths was overwhelming. His head ached unbearably.

"Hey, Lawliet," Yousha's muffled voice called sweetly from outside the bedroom door accompanied by gentle knocking, "I brought you a hot chocolate. Are you ok, Lawliet?" The doorknob trembled under Yousha's attempt to open the door. "The door's locked," Yousha pleaded, "Come let me in, Lawli—"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" L roared at her, "AND STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

On the other side of the locked door, Yousha huffed in frustration, a mug of hot chocolate for L in one hand and the other hand in her back pocket. From that pocket her hand emerged with a large paperclip, which she stretched and bent into a peculiar pattern with her free hand. Inserting the bent paperclip into the keyhole and manipulating the lock's mechanism, Yousha called to L, "My fear aggression senses are tingling. You're not angry at me Ryuzaki. You're scared." The door clicked open easily, and Yousha entered nonchalantly and laid the mug of hot chocolate on the bedside table. "I added in those marshmallows Watari said you liked," Yousha chirped as she sat on the foot of L's twin-sized bed. L's response was only to flop over onto his side so that his head lay next to the headboard, as far from Yousha as he could get. "I'm asking one more time because I care about you," Yousha hissed, getting annoyed with L, "Are you ok?"

L lay quietly for another thirty seconds. "You're Kira," he finally whispered, "and you're probably about to kill me." The fear in L's voice was evident even while he whispered.

Yousha scooted closer to L and stretched out her hand with the thought of comforting him by rubbing his back, but he trembled at her touch. She sighed. She took a sip of the hot chocolate to prove she hadn't poisoned it, and she yawned to prove she had swallowed the drink. L dared not move. "You told me a secret, so I'll tell you some of mine," Yousha bargained, "Most of my eccentricities are an act, a defense mechanism I developed when I was in public school in the United States. I was born there, but now I have dual citizenship, which is awesome but makes paperwork a confusing pain in the rear. My family is mostly Japanese, except my maternal grandfather, who was Cherokee Native American, so I'm trilingual. I speak Japanese, English, and Cherokee. I was identified as gifted by my grandmother after she administered a Stanford-Binet intelligence test and I scored 172, but unfortunately, when you're a child in the US public school system with an IQ greater than that of a speed bump, you're an ostricised friendless loser.

"Being so gifted and thus so bored, I taught myself to pick locks in elementary school, just so I'd have something to do. The skill came in handy in the third grade when my teacher locked my bouncy ball and my slingshot in her desk drawer. I actually worked my way through college testing security systems and locks for corporations. (By the way, that lock on your bedroom door is laughably easy to pick. You should think about changing it.)

"Children can be really cruel, too. Once in middle school some boys started teasing me after my heart condition acted up in class, so I did some research into how yo-yos were used as weapons and taught myself. Yo-yos are innocent looking enough to pass school security (except during my goth phase when I glued spikes to one of them)." L looked up at her with surprise and alarm. "Just kidding," she assured him, "I never had a goth phase.

"I got my doctorate a few months ago, so you're my first study. And a girl never forgets her first study." Yousha winked at L and laughed.

"Why are you telling me all this?" L asked, confused and still a bit afraid.

"Partly to show you that you can trust me because I'm not Kira," Yousha answered, "And also to show you that you're not the only one with secrets."

L carefully reached for the mug on the bedside table. The heat warmed his hands, and the steam rose from the hot chocolate into the air as he cautiously took a sip. Did Yousha poison the drink somehow?

_This_ was how hot chocolate was _supposed_ to taste! L knew this wasn't the instant powder kind, but actual molten chocolate mixed with creamy whole milk. He quickly drank the rest of the mug's contents. If that drink was poisoned, it was worth the risk. The chances that Yousha Sorano was Kira were steadily dropping, and L felt safer around her. He began to relax a bit.

"So are we friends?" Yousha asked hopefully.

"Friends?" L repeated.

"I'd consider us friends," Yousha decided with a smile.

L responded with a nod. He'd gained another friend, and friendship is a valuable thing.

"Well, I guess I'll have to toss that study in the garbage then," Yousha sighed.

"Why?" L asked, confused again. He had so much trouble predicting what Yousha would do next.

"Well, now that I actually _give a care_ about you, I can't be objective enough to continue," Yousha replied, "Besides, if publishing that study would put you at risk, I couldn't live with myself."

L stared in disbelief at Yousha. She cared about him. Why would she care about him?

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

Dr. Ijimeru poured fresh coffee into his black mug exactly five centimeters from the rim. He blew across the coffee's surface for four seconds to cool it off, then stirred in three packets of sugar and two cantainers of half-and-half. Now it was one perfect cup of coffee, just like Icarus liked it every morning. He counted the red notebooks Gryfe had collected for him from the tiny houses, all twelve, and then he reached for the file drawer where he kept the Death Note and the files he had on the people who now dwelt in the tiny houses. After retrieving those items, he closed the drawer, opened the drawer, closed the drawer, opened the door, closed the drawer. He checked the table calendar on his desk. Today was Friday the seventh, so he had to write eighteen names before he opened the veterinary office at nine a.m. He had to feed the greyhounds at exactly 8:30, so he had one hour. Icarus opened the Death Note, closed it, opened it, closed it, opened it, closed it, opened it. Two would have to die every two hours and two minutes in order to fit within the span of nine hours and still die with an odd numbered hour and even numbered minute.

Icarus looked around his library. All the books had been re-covered so that they were all 1.5 decimeters tall on the shelves. There were still twelve red spiral notebooks. He checked the time, and he was ahead of schedule by fifteen minutes. He could use that time to interrogate Light Yagami about L for the twentieth time in three weeks.

"Don't you think you should leave them alone today?" Gryfe suggested, licking sherbet from a cone, "He's probably told you all he knows about L anyway."

Icarus shrugged. "You're probably right, Gryfe," he agreed and replaced the Death Note and the files in the drawer. He tapped the drawer handle five times with a pen before he rose from his desk, a behavior Gryfe had noticed in Icarus many times before.

"Hey, Icarus?" Gryfe began, following her Death Note's owner outside to feed the grey hounds, "Have you considered getting help for your OCD?"

"I don't have OCD, Gryfe," Icarus growled, "How absurd."

"I'm no psychologist," Gryfe said sarcastically, "but you show a _lot_ of repetitive behaviors."

"I DO NOT HAVE OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER!" he roared rather loudly, causing his neighbors across the street to gawk at the uncharacteristic outburst with an expression which suggested that they thought contrarily as they went about their morning activities. Icarus quickly looked around at their faces. His humiliation turned to anger. "Get in the car," he sneered through gritted teeth and opened the driver side door of his SMART car. He climbed in after the Shinigami, forcing her into the passenger seat. Icarus slammed the door shut and started the engine. "I don't have OCD," he repeated, "I'll admit to being a perfectionist, and I have my rituals and routines. But I _do not_ have such a weak mind as to develop _obsessive compulsive disorder_."

"'Denial' isn't a river in Egypt, Icarus," Gryfe scoffed, but Icarus didn't answer. He'd have to deal with Gryfe after five p.m. when he could get back to the library and the infant utopia in the think woods behind his home.

_~~~~~~~Death Note~~~~~~~Like Minds~~~~~~~_

Another three weeks passed, and still the investigative team at headquarters had little new information. Everyone's face wore and expression of increasing anxiety and frustration. Yousha's cheerful songs that she sang as she cooked turned into mournful dirges. The previous day she sang "My Immortal" by Evanescence as she cooked dinner, and this morning she was singing the "Kyrie" of Mozart's _Requiem_ as she prepared breakfast. L lost even more sleep than usual. Misa was in Australia for a photo shoot, but Mr. Yagami knew her heart, like his, was wherever Light was. Matsuda seemed to be the only one unaffected by the angst.

"Good morning!" Matsuda greeted the team cheerfully as he entered headquarters. He'd been home for a while visiting family. "What a lovely spring we're having this year!" he sang, much to the annoyance of everyone in the common room.

"Not now, Matsuda," Mr. Yagami growled, rubbing his temples in frustration as he read and re-read the academic files of people recently reported missing.

"Aw, come on, chief!" Matsuda urged, "Doesn't anyone around here remember how to smile?"

The last notes of the "Kyrie" died into the remnants of the morning. Yousha was done preparing breakfast. She had been in a deepening depression since she gave L her incomplete profile. Clearly she was experiencing a profound inner turmoil.

"What's the matter, Yousha?" Matsuda asked with concern.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Yousha answered in the saddest tone anyone had ever heard from her.

"Talking about it helps! Any psychologist will tell you that!" Matsuda said, trying to cheer Yousha.

"I'd rather not," Yousha repeated.

"If we can't even talk to each other," Matsuda urged, "catching Kira is going to be impossible!"

"'Impossible,' the most loathsome word in the dictionary," Yousha hissed angrily, calling L's attention away from his coffee and Mr. Yagami's from the academic files. "My name means 'mercy,'" Yousha growled, "Know why? Someone in Heaven decided not to care what people thought was 'impossible.' When I was born, every doctor in the hospital told my parents that they didn't expect me to live to see my first birthday because my heart was too weak to pump enough blood to my brain. They said that even if I _did_ live, my brain would be so starved of oxygen that I'd never be able to function in society. They called me 'hopeless.' But here I am. I've lived to see my _twenty_-first birthday, functioned _well enough_ to earn a doctoral degree, and have an IQ _soaring_ into the 170s, where less than _five percent_ of the population of the _world_ scores. I've always _hated_ the word 'impossible,' because impossibility doesn't exist, and I'm a living testament to that. So DON'T TELL _ME_ about what's _IMPOSSIBLE_!" She glared at Matsuda with righteous fury in her eyes.

L stared in utter shock. He honestly didn't know Yousha was capable of such anger. Mr. Yagami was also surprised, but he was more inspired by Yousha's passion than shocked at her outburst.

"I'm sorry, Matsuda," Yousha apologized, repentance in her tone, "You didn't deserve that. I've just been at war with myself for a while now."

"Why?" L asked simply. Yousha had been concerned about his safety, and now he was concerned about her well-being.

"I might know who Kira is," Yousha choked back tears.

"WHAT!" L shouted. He curled himself onto the couch as Yousha dropped herself on the coushin next to him. "How long have you suspected this person?" L asked her, his voice seething with anger.

"Since I completed my profile," Yousha sighed in grief, "some weeks ago."

"THAT LONG!" Mr. Yagami thundered at Yousha as tears poured from her chocolate brown eyes, under her glasses, and down her cheeks, "Do you realize how many people have _DIED_ while you just _sat_ on that information! My own _son_ could be _dead_ because _you_ stayed silent!"

"ENOUGH, YAGAMI-SAN!" L shouted_, _rather forcefully.

Yousha couldn't speak for herself through her tears. Her black hair hid her downcast face. L warily reached toward her and gingerly laid his hand on Yousha's quivering shoulder. She took her glasses from her face and hid her eyes in her hand.

"Tell us more, Yousha-san," L commanded. He was still angry at her for hiding whatever revelation she was about to give them, but he would channel his anger elsewhere for now.

"Back when I was living in the United States, I was friends with a boy who lived next door. We were the same age, and we went to the same school. He was also very gifted, so we understood each other. While I was always care-free and a bit disorganized, he was a perfectionist even then. Everything had to be organized, had to be just so, had to be arranged according to a distribution of odd and even numbers. Now that I think of it, he showed several warning signs of OCD.

"His mother was a lovely Greek woman, and his father was Japanese. Three weeks after his tenth birthday, on a Wednesday, his parents were stabbed to death by a homeless man with untreated schizophrenia and an uncorrected club foot as they loaded groceries into their car. Using the same box cutter with which he killed my friend's parents, their attacker cut his own wrists. My friend was forced to watch his parents die and their murderer bleed out in the parking lot.

"He moved to Japan to live with his paternal grandmother after that, and we lost contact until we found each other again on a social networking website a couple years ago. He's a veterinarian now, and he also breeds grey hounds.

"It hurts me to accuse him," Yousha sobbed, "Everything we uncover strengthens a case against him though. I didn't _want_ him to be Kira. That's why I didn't say anything until now. I thought I could clear his name before I even had to mention him."

"What. Is. His. Name?" L demanded to know, his eyes burning into Yousha's hidden face.

"Icarus Ijimeru," Yousha sobbed, overcome by grief and guilt.

L left the couch to curl into his usual seat at the computer. He typed in the name Yousha gave, and everything from academic records and birth records to the news reports of the murder/suicide were retrieved. L scanned over each item with his usual blank stare as Matsuda tried to console Yousha and Mr. Yagami looked over L's shoulder. "The probability that Icarus Ijimeru is Kira is ninety-two point six two seven three percent," L assessed, "Yousha-san, do you have any idea where Dr. Ijimeru is now?"

"His grandmother worked in the park on Okinawa," Yousha answered, "She passed away several months ago, but I think Icarus might still live in her house within the park."

"That's a lot of room to hide kidnapping victims," Mr. Yagami pointed out, "The whole area is forested. He probably doesn't have many neighbors there, either."

"The probability just jumped to ninety-eight point five seven two percent," L decided, "Let's eat breakfast. Then Watari and I will get the helicopter."


End file.
